Ashes
by RazorCardz01
Summary: His eyes were cold, his stare lifeless. His body shook as he stood there, blood dripping down to the floor. I knew if I placed my hand on his chest, his heart would no longer be beating. He was dead. - AU GrimmUlqui -


**Summary: His eyes were cold, his stare lifeless. His body shook as he stood there, blood dripping down to the floor. I knew if I placed my hand on his chest, his heart would no longer be beating. He was dead. - AU GrimmUlqui -**

**Author's Note: This will be a relatively short story, just a few chapters and it'll be over. Also, for those that have been following me, don't worry. I'm working as hard as I can on the next chapter of Le Autre Du and Hallucination. They'll be up soon, I promise. For now, enjoy this little tidbit.**

**Disclaimer: Tite Kubo owns Bleach and all related characters**

**Part 1: Lost in Translation**

He ran; where he was going, he hadn't thought about it yet. The only thing his body was interested in was running away. Away from the threatening voices, the threatening hands. The air was cool, stinging his exposed skin. His heart was pounding at a mile a minute, adrenaline pushing him to keep moving. The sun had already set, making it hard to see. He cursed loudly, running into a lone trashcan and almost falling over. But he managed to keep his balance and he continued to run.

He didn't know how long or how far he ran. He couldn't stop himself to check his watch. Nor did he want to look at any street signs or addresses. Before he knew it, his body began to slowly come down from its adrenaline high. Slowing his sprint into a slow walk, he finally rested a sore shoulder against a cool brick wall. Knees bent and legs shaking, he forced himself to try and breathe normally, the air drying out his throat to the point where it hurt. That was the least of his troubles. Bringing up a scraped hand, he wiped his brow. He could feel something other than sweat smear his hand, making him flinch. He dropped his hand back down to his side, not needing to see it covered in red to know what was wrong. His breath now coming in short, rough gasps, he decided to finally turn and look back over his shoulder. Behind him the sidewalk extended back, blood marking the path he had followed. The air felt still around him, causing some wounds he didn't know he had to sting. Feeling his heart pound in his ears, he continued to lean on the wall for a long while. Even with the silence, the loneliness, he didn't feel safe. He looked around, finally recognizing the words on street signs and bright neon lights up ahead. Determined to feel safe again, at least for the moment, he moved in the direction of a familiar address.

**.::.**

"It hurts."

I looked over at him, soaking in the first words spoken that night. I could only offer him a look of sympathy, a soothing hand on his curved back as he sat there next to me on the bed. It was no later than 10 PM now, his eyes never leaving the ground. There was no reason for him to see my smile anyway when I answered the door. It would only make the pain worse.

"I'm sorry …" I didn't know what else to tell him out of sheer ignorance. I knew what happened, but to actually feel what was going through his mind and his heart was impossible. I didn't want it that way, but to ask for pain was a strange wish. No one was masochistic enough to ask for such a horrible torment. But if it could put that smile back on his face, I would take his pain within a heartbeat. If only.

"What should I do?" I blinked at the sudden question, frowning a little deeper than I already had been. His eyes shifted to look at me, one covered underneath the spotted bandages I had applied just a few minutes before. We locked eyes for only a moment before his slid back down to stare at the floor. I looked to see what was so interesting.

"I don't know. Maybe you should stay home for the next few days or so. I don't want them to find you."

"They know where I live. He knows where I live."

"Then you can stay here with me."

"There's no one to watch my house. What if someone breaks in while I'm away?"

"We'll figure something out. For now you should just … rest. Rest and stay here."

"Mmm…" A few silent minutes passed. Then without so much as an audible breath, he stood up. I flinched, watching him as he straightened out his aching body and slowly walked up to the window. There wasn't much meant behind the action, but I couldn't help but shiver from the thought that I was staring at a broken and disembodied spirit that had stayed too long on earth. "That…sounds nice."

**.::.**

The next few days were a blur. They mostly consisted of talking, crying and long silences. I didn't mind though. If that was what made his pain go away then I would gladly go through it with him. He avoided going outside, even to the balcony in fear of being found and didn't say much in terms of different subjects. All day, his mind would torture him and replay what had happened without a stop button, pushing out other thoughts. He was not allowed to think of anything else other than how much it hurt to be pushed against that cold wall, to be beaten endlessly and to be chased in the rain. The sudden shock of betrayal left him defenseless, his heart shattering in the process. Why the lies, why the games? There was no way he would understand, nor did he want to try. He knew it would hurt in the end and it would stay that way forever no matter what he did. Without a warning, his heart was robbed of any feelings he thought he might have felt, leaving him to be an empty shell.

He was just there.

That afternoon he lay on my bed as usual, his dark green eyes glued to the ceiling. They didn't look at me anymore and I was beginning to miss them. In his hand he held a small chocolate bar, the candy slowly melting from his body heat with a chunk bitten off earlier. He wasn't one to normally eat anything sweet, but after neglecting to eat anything at all that past week, I knew I had to force him to eat something. I sat at my desk, writing for a school assignment for the next day. In my drawer were his own assignments that I had brought for him, every last one of them untouched. I was surprised at the amount of understanding his professors held for him. I assumed it was partially because he was the best in their classes. Past tense.

Half past 5, he spoke up.

"Where do you want your final resting place?" My heart stopped for a second, my body going ridged. Not wanting him to see my reaction, I forced myself to keep writing.

"Don't talk like that" I muttered, praying my voice didn't sound as meek as it did in my head. "You won't die." I could feel him give me a look.

"I wasn't talking about myself."

"I know you'll loop it back to yourself." There was a brief pause before he sighed.

"I would like to be cremated." Putting my pencil down, I stood up from my chair and watched him intently. His head was now turned away from me, his hand outstretched and sliding over the fabric of the sheets. The chocolate was abandoned on the floor. "This earth is a place only for the living. I don't want to stay here with them if I've already passed; certainly not 6 feet under them." He turned to face the ceiling again, only to flinch when instead he saw my face. Looming over him, hands on either side of his head, I stared at him.

"Stop" I muttered, my tone low and mellow. I could see a flash of guilt in his eyes before being masked with his new found apathy. "Please…stop."

"I'm not going to do anything."

"How do I know that?"

"Have I done anything while I was here with you?"

"No. But how will I know you won't do anything when you go back home? You can't stay here with me forever and eventually you'll have to return to college if you ever want to graduate. I don't want you to hurt yourself." I could see my words had some kind of impact on him as his gaze wavered just enough for me to notice. His frown deepened and his body went limp. I was right.

"I can't…help it if it's all I can do to heal the pain."

"I want to be the one to heal your pain. I want to be here for you."

"You were…"

"I still am damnit! Just because we aren't…just because we aren't together anymore, that doesn't mean I can't keep trying to make you happy." He knew it was hard to ignore that statement. To ignore what we had been through together. Our history was a short lived one, but it hadn't left either severely injured. We met in school, grew an attraction for one another and finally decided to try going out. Needless to say it didn't work out and we both happened to figure it out at the same time. Ending the four month relationship was a mutual agreement and that gave the both of us enough humanity to continue being friends. Afterward I had stopped looking for anyone, but he quickly found himself pursuing another boy. Before I knew it, he and the older boy began to go out and it seemed picture perfect. Too perfect in my opinion, but what did I know? I had no right to interfere in his happy relationship, even if I couldn't shake off the nagging feeling in my stomach that something was wrong.

It was only earlier this week, seconds after he came to me with a bruised and cut body that I found out my intuition was right. There was a reason why they never held hands, never kissed. There was a reason why whenever he tried to show any sort of affection, the boy would give him a look that almost seemed threatening.

He sighed again, closing his eyes as if he wanted to block me out. "I appreciate all you're doing for me, I really do. But the emotional toll is just too much for you to take away. I'm sorry."

"What am I doing wrong?"

"You're not doing anything wrong. Please understand that this isn't a matter easily fixed by attention. I was assaulted in a dark alleyway and the only reason I wasn't also raped and killed was because I finally snapped out of my stupor and fought my way out."

"Then let's get you help. I can call the police and we can - "

"No." He opened his eyes again, only to glare up at me quietly. "No…I don't want to do that."

"But they can help, it's their job. They can arrest him and put him in jail for his hate crime. Even before they put him in jail they can protect you and make sure that he doesn't come anywhere near you." His glare softened just a bit to a point where it felt like he was trying to find my sincerity. It didn't seem like it took too long when it was only a few seconds later that he lifted a hand.

"I feel safe enough here" he whispered, his fingers raking through my hair slowly. I could feel my heartbeat quicken from the touch and I couldn't stop myself from asking.

"…what are you doing?"

"Reliving some memories…I had forgotten how soft your hair was…" As his hand continued to gently massage my skull, I let my face inch closer to his, but just enough so that I was the only one to notice.

"Does it make you feel better?"

"You could say that. At least with you, your affections were real and not some fake mask."

"They still are." He scowled, letting go of me to turn onto his stomach. I already missed his touch.

"Don't say that. We agreed that nothing would have come of us being together besides sexual satisfaction."

"What's wrong with that?" He huffed, a habit he always used to do when I teased him during our relationship. Back then it meant he would crack a smile and play along with whatever sarcasm I gave him. But now it was lost in translation.

"Your views on a healthy relationship are different from mine. I want substance, I want commitment. I want to be able to see myself with this same person forever and I don't want to doubt them. You on the other hand would much rather prefer a quick hit. The idea of a real relationship would never – " I could feel his body tense almost instantly underneath my weight. With his arms pulled up to his chest, I had room to slide mine around his stomach in a tight embrace. He attempted to curl up, but my heavy position above him prevented him from moving more than a few inches. My head rested beside the back of his neck, my breath tickling the warm skin. He didn't make a move to get away, but he didn't make a move to accept what I was doing either. He was the first one to speak after what seemed like hours.

"Grimmjow ..."

"Maybe I'm not so good at this whole committed relationship thing. Maybe I don't like to be tied down to a single person. But I was trying my best with you because I didn't want to be the one to hurt you in the end." He remained quiet and I couldn't tell what his face looked like from my position. I was about to let go when I could feel a gentle hand grasp my shoulder. Thin fingers gripped the fabric of my shirt. "I know it's probably not the best time to ask for your trust, but … I want to try again."

" … " he didn't respond right away, his hand still clutching my shoulder.

You know that saying, "minutes felt like hours" ? If there was ever a perfect moment to describe as such, it would be right now.


End file.
